


Moving Shadows

by Dracoduceus



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Sleep Paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 02:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20332786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoduceus/pseuds/Dracoduceus
Summary: For a moment, Hana couldn't exactly place where she was or why she was awake.She thought it was probably just a nightmare and resolved to roll over and go back to sleep, only to find that she couldn't.





	Moving Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Every once in a while (usually in the summer, because that's the busiest season for work) I have issues with sleep paralysis. I usually refer to it as my choking ghost though, since my hallucinations are always consistent: a void-colored man in a void-colored hat. He sometimes stands next to my bed but he's usually in a corner somewhere. 
> 
> In any case, a few interesting things about sleep paralysis/choking ghosts:
> 
> -Typically linked to the body not moving smoothly through stages of sleep.  
-May accompany other sleep disorders such as narcolepsy  
-Hypnagogic/predormital sleep paralysis or hypnopompic/post dormital sleep paralysis. Depends on when it happens: as you fall asleep or as you wake up.  
-Some factors that play into sleep paralysis: lack of sleep, changing sleep schedule, mental conditions such as stress or bipolar disorder, sleeping on the back, sleep problems, use of certain medications, substance abuse  
-“Choking ghosts”, sometimes called “pressing ghosts” are common stories in HI. A lot of firehouses will have stories of choking ghosts, some more than others.

Hana woke up and for a moment couldn’t exactly place where she was. The world was awash in shades of grey from the hint of moonlight peeking in through the curtains; the door to the bathroom was a rectangle of black lined in pale blue from the small nightlight in the outlet beside it. A light on her desk was blinking: she must have left something on before she climbed into bed.

She could hear Brigitte sleeping soundly in the bed next to her, could see her shoulder out of the corner of her eye, rising and falling as she breathed.

Though she knew that she hadn’t been having a nightmare, she couldn’t place why she was awake. Her dreams were lost in a hazy fog but they hadn’t been unpleasant enough to wake so suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped.

In the end she decided to ignore it, decided to roll over and try to go back to sleep. It would elude her for a while longer—she felt wide awake, her veins filled with adrenaline or something like it. Maybe if she curled up close enough to Brigitte, basked in her warmth and synched her breaths to her maybe-girlfriend’s, she might be able to sleep a few hours more before she had to be awake.

But she couldn’t move, as if her body was tied down.

No, as if her body was no longer hers to control. As if Ana had hit her with a sleep dart but she was awake.

Not a twitch of her finger, not a turn of her head; only her eyes could move and she looked around wildly, looking for the source of her immobility.

She couldn’t breathe—a combination of panic and the feeling of something on her chest, as if someone that she couldn’t see was sitting there.

No, there was someone there: a shadow darker than the shadows of the rest of the room. A void that was the absence of light that knelt on her chest. She could only make out its outline and what she saw terrified her: one moment it was human-shaped, a tall man in a hat; the other moment it was a miniature version of the Gwishin.

It made no sound but she could _feel_ its roar, could almost imagine everything rattling with the force of it; all she could hear was a ringing in her ears that grew with each second. Still Brigitte slept on and everything remained stationary.

The shapes bore down on her, pressing on her chest, compressing her lungs. She struggled for breath, struggled to move, struggled to do _anything_ but lie there and suffocate, staring with wide eyes up into nothing.

And then she was free and she leaped up, her body covered in cold sweat and her heart racing. She struggled with the blankets her legs entangled in them, and she cried out in panic because _the Gwishin were here_.

But the room was just as it was when she had gone to sleep. The world was washed in shades of grey from a hint of moonlight. The bathroom door was highlighted in pale blue from the nightlight beside it. A light on her desk was blinking.

Brigitte was kneeling beside her. She seemed wide awake despite being dragged from a deep slumber and Hana felt her stomach drop lower than she believed possible.

“Bad dream?” Brigitte asked sympathetically.

There was no pity in her voice but Hana still looked away. “It was the Gwishin,” she said. As she came down from her adrenaline high, she felt cold enough that she shivered even the humid summer air. She rubbed her bare arms and curled her legs close to her. “I couldn’t move. It was here, sitting on my chest.”

“You couldn’t move?”

She nodded. “I woke up,” she explained. “Or I thought I did. But I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. Then it was there, over me. I just…I couldn’t see it. It was just a shadow.”

For a long moment Brigitte watched her and Hana was glad that she didn’t reach out to touch her; she wasn’t sure how she’d react, even now. “Come here,” Brigitte said, moving to sit by the headboard so that it propped her back up. She gestured to the space beside her, under her left arm.

Hana obeyed, her limbs feeling gangly and uncoordinated. As if there was a delay in their response.

If this was her MEKA, she’d take it to Dae-hyun for repairs, but this was her body. Her own damn body and she couldn’t control it. There was a lag that she’d never experienced before and it scared her all over again.

“It happens sometimes,” Brigitte told her gently, tugging her closer. She took one of Hana’s hands, clenched in uneasy fists, and massaged the fingers with her thumbs, easing them open. Then she placed Hana’s open palm over her chest so Hana could feel her heartbeat, her steady breathing. “They say that it happens a lot during high-stress situations. Sleep paralysis.”

Hana didn’t say anything, curling closer. Brigitte was warm against her chilled skin and her breathing and heartbeat were reassuringly regular.

“That’s what they say, anyway,” Brigitte continued, her voice more calming than the words she spoke. As if she had talked someone out of it before. Hana wondered if she had. “But I’ve known plenty of soldiers that haven’t experienced it and plenty of soldiers that have. First-responders, CEOs, they all have it. They say it’s a stress mechanism where your brain and body stop running on the same circuit.”

That sounded familiar. Hana couldn’t remember where she had heard it before.

“Some places, they call it the ‘choking ghost’,” Brigitte continued. “Because it feels like you can’t breathe. That’s what happens, though—your brain turns off your body when you hit dream-level sleep so you don’t go running around while you dream. But then your brain sometimes forgets to turn it back on. Your mind wakes up first but your body doesn’t and you start to panic because you have no control over your body. I’ve been told it feels like being tied down except you can’t feel anything holding you down.”

“It felt like someone was sitting on my chest,” Hana whispered. “I saw it. It was a Gwishin but smaller.” She thought of how it had shifted back and forth, void-colored man and void-colored Gwishin and back.

“You’re dreaming,” Brigitte told her reassuringly. “Or that’s what I’ve been told. You’re stuck in that awkward place between waking and sleeping and your mind is still trying to dream. That’s why you hallucinate like that.”

Hana didn’t know if she’d call it a ‘hallucination’—perhaps that was too mild a word—but she held her tongue and said nothing. She continued to shiver against Brigitte’s side. “You’ve done this before?”

“I haven’t had sleep paralysis,” Brigitte replied. “But I’ve been around a few people who have.”

They sat together for a while and Hana felt her own breathing and racing heartbeat begin to slow. She began to feel less cold, less clammy, and now her fear sweat made her skin feel sticky. Brigitte didn’t complain, leaning her cheek against Hana’s head.

“I feel gross,” Hana murmured.

“It’s hot out,” Brigitte replied, as if the sweaty feeling that Hana had was because of the summer heat and not a hallucination. “I’m surprised it’s not warmer in here.” She paused. “Do you want to take a shower? Rinse off the sweat?”

Hana hummed. “I think I should,” she said but made no motion to leave Brigitte’s one-armed embrace.

They sat like that for a little while longer. “Go wash up,” Brigitte told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll air out the blankets.”

When Hana moved to stand, she found that her legs were shaky but steady and she carefully picked her way, by the pale blue light of the nightlight, to the bathroom. She kept the door cracked open, wondering if Brigitte would join her, and stood blinking owlishly as she turned on the light.

Pinning her hair up, she stepped into the water and sighed. It was just what she needed. She let the water fall over her until she began to feel the insistent tugs of exhaustion. Not sure if she was disappointed or not that Brigitte didn’t join her, she washed herself quickly and stepped out.

It seemed that Brigitte had walked into the bathroom at some point, because instead of her usual towel hanging on the rack, there was one that seemed inordinately plush and she smiled when she saw that there were little paw prints on the edges. She dried off quickly and hung the towel back up, dressing in the clean sleep clothes that she found laid out for her on the counter.

Brigitte was sitting on the bed when she poked her head back in, and smiled. “You ready to go back to sleep?” she asked. Evidently, Brigitte had been busy while Hana had been showering—the sheets were all new, the old ones piled in their laundry bin. They smelled like fabric softener and dryer sheets and Hana smiled.

Nonetheless she felt herself hesitating at the edge of the bed, irrationally afraid of dreaming again.

Of that feeling of helplessness, of paralysis. Of being awake and staring at the ceiling, at the void-Gwishin, and not being able to move or breathe or do anything but bear witness to her own death.

Brigitte patted the bed next to her invitingly. “Come on,” she urged, laying her head down on the pillow. “I doubt it’ll come back again but if it does, I’ll still be here.”

Bravado—that’s all it was, because Brigitte couldn’t possibly know. But Hana liked that idea.

She climbed into bed and let Brigitte tug her close, let her tangle their legs together and drape one of her big arms around Hana’s waist. “Is this okay?” she asked, her lips brushing against Hana’s hair.

This close she could hear Brigitte’s breathing, feel her steady heartbeat. Already it was lulling her to sleep. “Perfect,” she breathed and closed her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't like the choking ghost. It's not a comfortable sensation. 
> 
> Love it? Hate it? 
> 
> Feel free to visit me on Twitter at [dracoduceus](https://twitter.com/dracoduceus) as well. There, you can find me retweeting a lot of cat pictures/videos and the occasional writing meme or update. 
> 
> As always, thanks for indulging me. 
> 
> ~DC


End file.
